Faute de Mieux
by Crystal Shores
Summary: When little Sarah's mother died, she hated the world. But when a strange man offers to help in the park, her life takes a turn that no-one expected. What really happened before, during, and after the Labyrinth. J/S with a dash of humor for good measure.
1. Sarah's Parents

**Fun Fact- The title; "Faute de Mieux" is French for; "For lack of something better". How did I get it? **

**Well, thus far, the story has no direction, so I couldn't think of a title. But FF doesn't let you submit title-less stories. **

**So I opened the dictionary, and it was the first thing I saw! True story! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth. But trust me, I'm working on it -insert evil laughter- **

**A/N: I know! Starting another fic when I'm not done with the others! Bad Crystal! But you do not know how insistent my plot bunnies can be -looks around shiftily- **

**Plot bunny: Is "shiftily" even a word? **

**Me: AUGHGHGH!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE BACK!!!! **

**_This chapter is dedicated to my parents. _ **

**_YES I KNOW I DEDICATED SOMETHING ELSE TO THEM!!!!!!_ **

**_But, you know, the whole "Life-giving" thing, I pretty much owe it to them._ **

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**Sarah's Parents **

Often, when a child is small; they believe that their parents know everything. But when Sarah Williams was small, she was of the opinion that her father was the stupidest person alive.

This may seem horrible, but Sarah had her reasons. Robert Williams was a workaholic and as such, never had any time for Sarah. He was clumsy, often forgetful, and had once told Sarah; "Fairytales aren't real. They're stupid, pointless wastes of time." Her father had no imagination. This cemented in Sarah's mind that her father was stupid.

Her mother, however, was very different.

In Sarah's eyes, her mother was the single most brilliant person to ever walk the earth. Linda Williams was an excellent storyteller, giving each character their own voice. She knew everything about fairies and elves; magic, and Otherworlds; and she always had an answer for any question that curious Sarah could ask (though not always the _correct_ answer, mind you). She was, in little Sarah's mind; perfect.

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Every Friday, Sarah and her mother would dress up as fairies, and then go to Lawry's Ice Cream Parlor.

The owner, one Sam Lawry, liked little Sarah very much. He was a jovial old man with a long beard and a rather portly middle. The first day Sarah had come in; she had looked at him in awe, and then asked if he was Santa.

Contrary to the reaction most adults would have had if asked that question; he had laughed, then promised her free ice cream any time she wanted it.

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Sarah and her mother often had little "adventures" together.

Once, they had gone to a museum. They almost immediately got lost in its labyrinthine hallways. They pretended they were in an enchanted maze and had to get out before eight (closing time) or they were lost forever. Eventually, with the help of a friendly security guard, they had managed to escape.

Another time, they went to see a musical. They had gotten front row seats to see it. Sarah loved it so much; she was nearly bouncing in her seat. Seeing this, one of the actors, still singing his part, jumped offstage, and then brought her back on with him, where she danced and played with several other children who were actually part of the program. Her mother applauded and laughed along with the rest of the audience. Sarah decided then and there that she wanted to be an actress.

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When Sarah was seven, she had gone with her mother to a "ball". She had been very disappointed with it. Everyone was wearing suits, not gowns, and there wasn't a single prince or king in sight. She told her mother how upset she was.

"Don't worry, Sarah," she told her daughter. "One day, you'll have your own ball. It'll have pretty dresses, wonderful dancers, and a king who loves you." Sarah had then asked if her mother had ever had such. Her mother had gotten a sad look in her eyes, and then whispered, almost to herself. "No."

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On Sarah's eighth birthday (which her father had, of course, forgotten), her mother took her to a little shop downtown. It was what she called "A Curiosity Shop". She had told Sarah to pick something, anything out. Sarah had looked high and low, wracked with childish indecision. Then, she saw it. The perfect thing!

It was a music box. A little dancer in a gazebo, twirling to the music, captivated Sarah. When she turned it over, she saw letters. Not feeling patient enough to put her school lessons to good use, she held it up to her mother.

"Mommy," she asked. "What does this say?" her mother had looked at it, then smiled and said;

"It's an inscription. It says; 'To Jareth, High King of all Fae'. Now, what would a king be doing with a music box?" Sarah had jumped up and down, then exclaimed;

"He's going to give it to a princess!" Her mother had smiled and agreed with her.

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They bought the music box that day. For many years, Sarah would dream about what it would be like to be the dancer. To be always spinning. But, as she once noted, the dancer was always alone. And Sarah wouldn't end up alone. No, she resolved not to.

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Sarah loved her mother, and her mother loved her. Together, they planned many adventures. Sarah was told that the moment she turned sixteen, she was going to Europe with her mother. They would see castles, monuments, and would eat at every café they came across. Of course, we all know that never happened…

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**A/N: Reviews are to a writer as energy drinks are to an athlete. If an athlete gets lots of energy drinks, they'll go faster...or rush to the bathroom. AUGH! My metaphor stinks. **

**But you get the idea! Review! **

**P. S. If this seems different from what it once was; it's because I'm going through and self-beta-ing this story. It has so many mistakes! **


	2. New Words

**A/N: This chapter is a short one: I know. But the next one will be longer, I promise! Besides; these two didn't fit together all too well. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth. **

**_This chapter is dedicated to all of you who have ever lost a mother._ **

**_I cannot, in truth, say that I understand._ **

_**But knowing how much I love mine…I imagine it must have been hard. **_

**_My heart goes out to you._ **

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**New Words **

Three months after her eighth birthday, Sarah learned many new words. She learned "pain". She learned "despair". She learned "cancer". And, after a while, she learned "death".

She didn't fully understand death, but she was sure it must be a little like leaving, because that's what happened to her mother. She left. Sarah wasn't allowed to go to the funeral, but that didn't matter to her. The child thought that her mother left because she hadn't eaten all of her veggies last night. So Sarah was good, an angel for a very long time. She hoped that if she was good, her mother would come back. At least…she liked to think she'd come back. But deep down, she knew her mother was gone for good. It wasn't until she was nine that she fully admitted it to herself: She just wasn't coming back.

On that Friday afternoon, she locked herself in her closet and cried. "It's not fair!" she sobbed. It was not the last time she would utter this declaration.

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When Sarah turned ten, her father remarried.

"It's for you, Sarah." Her father told her. "You need a mother and Karen is perfect for the job." Sarah had thrown a tantrum.

"I don't want a Karen!" she had screamed. "I want my mommy!" Her father had assured her that she would grow to like Karen, maybe even love her. Sarah's reply was an adamant "No!"

"Stop it, Sarah!" her father had yelled. "You need to get your head out of that fantasy world you live in! You need to _grow up_!"

"No!" Sarah screeched. "I'm never going to grow up! Ever!"

That night, she went to bed without dinner.

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"Stepmother"; that was Karen's name. Stepmother; like the wicked stepmothers in Sarah's fairytales. Sarah hated Karen. It wasn't anything about her in particular, it was merely the fact that she was trying so hard to replace Sarah's mother, and Sarah didn't like it.

"Stepmother"; that was Sarah's newest word.

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**A/N: Okay, what you need to realize in this story is the fact that I'm _not_ going to make Karen a monster. Sarah doesn't like her for the sole reason that she isn't her mother who she misses very much.**

**And while we're on the topic: Sarah's father isn't really evil; he's just your typical workaholic father who gets frazzled at the slightest shift from the norm. This doesn't mean that I condone him yelling at Sarah for missing her mom….--grumblmeanygrumble-- **

**All in all, they aren't bad parents. They just aren't right for Sarah. **

**Review! **


	3. Remember When We Met?

**A/N: I am such a slow updater! I beg of you all; don't kill me! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Little Princess, Cinderella, or Hansel and Gretel. But you know, they might be public domain, so I'm not sure if that's entirely true… **

**But I know for a fact that I do not own Labyrinth. But if I have anything to say about it, that will soon change! Muwahahahahahahaha! **

**_This chapter is dedicated to my long-lost friend; Sanity._**

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**Remember When We Met? **

"Of course, your majesty; you could try to convince the White Lady to give you her daughter. The Labyrinthian alliance is not one that she would dare refuse." Jareth sighed inwardly. Day and night, it was all the same.

_-"Oh, she would make a fine wife!" _

_-"You know, the Lady Trillia is seeking a husband." _

_-"Why aren't you married?" _

_-"You need to have an heir."_

_-"You must get married, Jareth." _

As if he _wanted_ to get married. Marriage was something that seemed unbearably dull to him. Catering to the whims of some spoiled princess for a time and then catering to the whims of said princess' spoiled children. It wasn't really his idea of an ideal life. So he put it off, time and again, completely frustrating his advisors in the process. On that fateful October day, he really couldn't bear to sit and listen to all of the chatter again. So he took himself without warning far away.

That is to say; he left.

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Often, when Jareth wanted to get away from the pressures of court life, he would go to the Mortal world. Mortals were amusing little creatures, complaining constantly about anything they could think of. That day, Jareth flew over a small Connecticut town. It looked as though it was about to rain, but this didn't bother Jareth. Getting wet wasn't really that much of a problem. Suddenly, he heard a child yell angrily. 

"_Hey! Give it back!" _

"_**Children and their arguments."**_ He thought to himself. _**"Well, as I have nothing better to**_ _**do…"**_ He flew towards the sounds of several children, and then hid in a tree. On a path that led through the city's small park, five older children had surrounded a little girl. The girl had brown hair, piercing green eyes, and was obviously upset about something.

"Oh, wook!" One of the older children taunted. "It's wittle Sawah Williams! Awe you pwaying your wittle games again Sawah?" The girl; this Sarah, looked furious.

"You better give it back!" she cried. "Give it back or I'll yell!" One of the kids held out a pink bag.

"Oh, is this what you're talking about?" he said cruelly. "I don't know…don't you want to see what's inside?" He dumped the bag's contents onto the ground.

"No!" cried Sarah, trying to rush at him. But two kids held her back.

"Let's see what we've got here." Said the older boy who was going through her things. "You've got pencils, crayons, and notebooks; all normal. But wait! What are these? _'The Little Princess'_?" he asked mockingly. _"'Hansel and Gretel'? 'Cinderella'_? Sarah! Don't you know these are baby books?"

"No they're not!" Sarah exclaimed. "Please, give them back!" the boy ignored her, and continued shifting through her things.

From his hiding place, Jareth watched with no small measure of dislike. Mortals, though amusing; were also often unbelievably cruel. Why were they being so cruel to her? She was only a child, smaller than them, and certainly weaker than them. What satisfaction could they possibly be gaining from this? The boy pulled a photograph out of one of Sarah's books. When Sarah saw it, she turned pale.

"Well, well, what have we here?" sneered the boy. "It's a signed picture! But who's it from? 'To Sarah from mom'" he read mockingly. "Oh, isn't that lovely? You know what I heard, Williams? I heard your mama died because she was a witch, and a spell backfired. I heard she died because she was evil." Sarah was crying now, but in anger.

"No she wasn't!" she yelled. "She wasn't evil! She wasn't a witch! My mom was a good mom, and she died of cancer!" the boy shrugged.

"If it makes you feel better," he tore the picture right down the middle. "Oops!" he said in mock apology. He dropped the picture. "Well, me and the boys have to go. See ya later, _pal_." He and his gang went down the path, making sure they stepped on as much of Sarah's things as possible. Sarah glared after them until they were out of sight, then she picked up the ruined photograph and started to cry.

"Stupid boys;" She sobbed. "I wish they would go away. _Far_ away."

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Still hidden, Jareth watched all of this. For some strange reason, it outraged him! Those boys were hardly acting the gentlemen to that little girl, and when he heard her wish, he came very close to granting it.

Sarah took a deep breath to stop crying. Slowly, she began picking up her ruined things. Trying, without success, to ignore the torn picture; the one her mother had given her the day before she died. Suddenly, a voice startled her.

"Do you want some help with that?"

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Typically, Jareth wasn't the emotional type. He had, in his kingdom, seen all sorts of things that should have all been heart-wrenching, but, after a while, he became used to them. In the Mortal Realm, as well; he'd seen things far worse than a little girl being bullied. But a chord was struck in him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he, very like the little girl; had no mother? Whatever the reason, he had decided to step in and see what he could do.

"Do you want some help with that?" he asked her kindly. Sarah turned around and glared at him.

"My mom said not to talk to strangers." She said stoutly. "So go away or I'll fight you." Jareth had to force himself not to laugh. The idea of someone so little fighting him off was absurd!

"Is that so?" he asked. "Well, then; hello. My name's Jareth, what's yours?" Sarah looked at him suspiciously.

"Sarah." She said slowly.

"Well, Sarah." Jareth said, smiling. "As I know your name and as you know mine; I don't see how we could possibly be strangers." Sarah was a little confused.

"I…guess not…" she shrugged.

"Wonderful. Now, would you like some help with that?" Sarah gave him a small smile and nodded. He bent down and picked up her books. "_'The Little Princess'_." He read aloud. "This is one of my favorite stories." Sarah's jaw dropped.

"_You_ read fairytales?" she asked, disbelieving. Jareth nodded, and inwardly congratulated himself for making the child forget her problems. "But-you can't!" she stuttered.

"Oh?" asked Jareth, raising an eyebrow. "And why ever not?"

"Because you're old!" Sarah cried. Jareth nearly dropped the books he was holding.

"'_Old'?"_ He repeated, choking down the peals of laughter threatening to erupt from him. "I'm not _old_! _Parents_ are old! _Grandparents_ are old! _I_, I can assure you, am _quite_ young." Sarah giggled.

"Whatever you say." She smiled.

Jareth helped her gather all of her things into her bag. When he went to pick up the picture, Sarah suddenly said; "No. Leave it. It's torn anyway."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jareth said. "It's perfectly fine." He held up the picture, which didn't even have the slightest of tears in it.

"But-but it was…" Sarah looked completely confused. Jareth handed her the picture and her bag. She looked at the picture fondly.

"Do you like fairytales?" Jareth asked her suddenly. Sarah looked at him as though he was an idiot.

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed. Jareth handed her a small, leather-bound book.

"Then you can have this." He said. "It's of no use to me." Sarah took the book and glanced at the title. "The ending isn't particularly happy." Jareth warned her. "And it might confuse you a little…" Sarah smiled at him broadly. The she threw her arms around him in a childish hug.

"Thank you." She whispered. Then she ran off, leaving Jareth alone and very confused.

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When Jareth returned to the castle, he mentally berated himself for giving the girl The Book. He'd kept it to himself for decades, so why the sudden change of heart? He put it out of his mind, and also tried to forget that….feeling. Some strange feeling he'd had when he was with the girl. It made him angry, because it had felt like he cared about someone, and nothing good _ever_ comes from that.

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**A/N: We like Jareth; yes we do! We like Jareth; how 'bout you?! –tries to do splits and ends up hurting herself- **

**Ow! But it's true; he's really fun to write! **

**Notice any odd capitalizations? **

**So...review! **


	4. The First Wish

**A/N: Okay, this chapter is painfully short, but the next one is from Jareth's POV. So I decided to splice the chapters…and this one ended up pretty short. Don't kill me!!! **

**Disclaimer: I own the storyline, but I do not own the Labyrinth, its quotes, or its characters. But when I'm a million-bajillion-aire, I'll buy the rights to it all, and have Sarah end up with Jareth in the unprecedented sequel that is not a manga!!!!!!!!! **

**Yeah, right. **

**_This chapter is dedicated to Violet Phoenix Rising._ **

**_Really, your review of my last chapter made me very happy. _**

**_As an author, I (selfishly) do so love it when I am told that my writing style is good._ **

**_And also when I am told that I am writing in character._ **

**_Thanks!_ **

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**The First Wish **

Sarah read the book over and over and over. She never stopped to think about the man who had given it to her. In fact, she could not seem to recall exactly how she had gotten the book in the first place. In her mind, it was just always there.

She loved reading about the Labyrinth. In the story, the girl (whose name was never mentioned) who ran the Labyrinth seemed intimidated, even scared by it. But it didn't seem scary to Sarah.

"If I ever get there," she vowed to herself. "I'll stay. It sounds a lot better than this miserable excuse for a home."

But the likelihood of her ever needing to wish anyone away was very slim. After all, she was pretty sure the Goblin King wouldn't take Karen; she was just too old. And Sarah was an only child…

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When the first words came from his mouth, Sarah knew that something bad would be soon to follow. What else could it be when the first words he said were:

"Your mother and I have something to tell you." Robert looked serious. He wasn't "dad" anymore; he was Robert.

"She's not my mother." Fourteen-year-old Sarah muttered darkly. Robert, Stepmother, and she were sitting in their living room; a room decorated in garish hues to suit Karen's weird idea of taste.

"Sarah, don't be difficult." Now Robert was angry. "I don't want it rubbing off on the baby. It needs a good influence." Sarah glared at him.

"That's all you think I am, isn't it?" she snapped. "A 'bad influence for the baby'. Well I've had it! The baby can…" A look of understanding crossed her features. "Oh, no." she shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no!" She was shouting now. "How could you?!" she exclaimed, glancing from Stepmother to Robert with a look of horror on her face. Karen tried to calm her down.

"Sarah dear," she began. "it's really going to be all right." Sarah glared at her.

"For you it will!" she spat. "I bet you're _happy_ about it! I bet you can't wait to have that squealing little rat! Then you'll say 'Oh, Robert! We have a baby, so now we don't need Sarah!' And then you'll force me onto the streets!"

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Deaf to the indignant protests of Robert and Karen, Sarah turned and stormed outside. It was starting to rain, but Sarah didn't care. She threw a dark look back at the house. "I wish the Goblin King would come take _them_ away." She muttered darkly. "Right now."

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**A/N: Review! **


	5. When a King is of Good Humor

**A/N: It has been forever, I know! And I really didn't have any intention of updating yet, but I re-read some of my wonderful reviews and was suddenly inspired to update.**

**See! Your reviews _do_ help me to update!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth. If I did, I'd probably be David Bowie...and that would be horrible, as it would mean that I couldn't like Jareth.**

**_This chapter is dedicated to my siblings. _**

**_Trolls they may be. _**

**_They may ruin my castle once in a while._**

**_But I still use them for inspiration._**

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**When a King is Of Good Humor… **

Jareth did not really want to remember his brief encounter with Sarah Williams. He had a strong suspicion that giving her The Book was going to cause him some sort of problem in the near future. As such, remembering her meant remembering that he might have made a big mistake; something no male (Mortal _or_ Fae) ever had any desire to do.

But in direct spite of what he had convinced himself that he wanted; he was often struck by the need to check in on Sarah. He watched her fondly as she grew older, developing a hotter and hotter temper as she did so. Sometimes, the things she did or said were ridiculously absurd (for instance; telling her Stepmother that she wanted the Faeries to spirit her away from her home. Absurd! Everyone knows how unintelligent Faeries are! They would be incapable of such a high Magickal feat).

On these occasions, Jareth couldn't help but break out into unrestrained mirth-filled laughter that rang through the hallways and courtyards of his castle; throwing his staff, advisors, and guests into a state of shocked panic. What precisely did their normally reserved King find so amusing? It was frightening to them!

But Sarah's influence on Jareth did not stop at making him laugh. He started acting much kinder and more generous towards his staff and subjects. He threw ball after ball in his delight. He never danced with any of the hopeful ladies anymore; he had suddenly decided that none of them were his type. He always appeared to radiate a euphoric sort of aura for no apparent reason and was constantly claiming (much to the royal composers despair) that the music played at his balls was far too slow and dreary: not nearly happy enough to suit him.

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Everyone tried to guess at the King's sudden inexplicable mirth. He found humor in everything, was often heard singing a strange song of a "magic dance" (the significance of which no-one could figure out), and he nearly shocked the sanity out of his head advisor when he claimed that he wanted to hire a Troll to clean the castle, which was really odd; as the castle was cleaned constantly.

It was entirely in jest, of course; but his poor advisor wasn't aware of this. Secretly horrified at what he was doing, the misguided advisor actually hired a Troll to clean the castle. The Troll destroyed a large portion of the West Wing Observatory before the King heard of what was happening in his castle and ordered the madness to stop. Jareth, of course; found the whole affair utterly amusing before he assigned staff to fix the gaping hole in the wall.

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To the advisors, Jareth's newfound enthusiasm could only mean one thing: Jareth had (at long, long last) found a Queen.

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Unaware of the speculation and incorrect theories surrounding him on the day of Sarah's first wish, Jareth was lounging in his throne room. He had just finished a meeting with the ambassador of the Goblin City, who had promised the King the Goblins' support should he ever need them. Jareth had politely thanked the ambassador, but secretly thought to himself that he could see no reason why he would ever need the assistance of the Goblins.

Suddenly, his ears were ringing with Sarah's familiar voice: **_"I wish the Goblin King would come take them away. Right now."_ **

He sat bolt upright. It was impossible! The girl couldn't be _summoning_ him; he hadn't given her that power…had he? Almost without thinking, he pulled a crystal into existence. Sarah was stalking away from her house looking positively murderous. He'd hate to be in _her_ path just then…

…But she _had_ summoned him.

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**A/N: So, review! I like reviews...and Jareth! -squees-**


	6. Of Spiders and Toads and Furious Girls

**A/N: I'm back!**

**-dodges cantaloupes and goblins thrown by (rightfully) annoyed readers-**

**I know! I'm very sorry it's been so long. Life and stuff, you know? But now, with a little extra time and a new laptop, I intend to at least finish my stories. So, no need to sic dragons and vermicious k'nids on me, right?**

**I know the DoAFII readers must be seething by now. Please don't: I'll get to you. And as an extra special "please-forgive-the-un-updating-Authoretta" kind of thing, I will be writing To Reply in French, the ficlet sequel to To Speak in French. Because you asked for it.**

**Of course, you probably want to read the chapter now, so I'll stop jabbering. Enjoy!**

**_This chapter is dedicated to lemon bars._**

**_Though ye be sour enough to melt my teeth,_**

**_Your crust is warm and yummy._**

**_AND_**

**_To my longsuffering readers,_**

**_Who probably forgot all about this story until the update thing came in the e-mail,_**

**_But are reading this anyway._**

**_Thanks._**

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**Of Spiders and Toads and Furious Girls**

Sarah slumped beside the creek and sighed. It was a deep sigh. A soul-searching sigh. And a sigh so loud that no fewer than six spiders in the vicinity went scuttling for cover, in mortal terror of being blown into the water by the wind emanating from the giant girl.

The creek was called White Bones. At ten, Sarah had decided that such a creepy name didn't belong to such a sparkling, beautiful body of water. She called it the Seelie River and sailed letters to her mother down it, care of the Goblin King. Sarah came to the river when she wanted to think or play or read or just get away from Robert and Karen, as was the case now.

It wasn't that Sarah hadn't always wanted a little sibling. She had. She'd asked Santa, God, the Easter Bunny, and her mother for a little sister many times before her mother died. But _this_ wouldn't be a little sister. _This_ would be a half-sister, and only one tick away from a stepsister. Stepsisters were almost as bad as stepmothers, Sarah knew. And suppose it were a half-_brother_? Boys were all pains in the neck, with the possible exception of the Goblin King. And he wasn't exactly real.

Sarah sighed again. Why couldn't Robert be more like the Goblin King? She was sure that the Goblin King wouldn't have _anything_ to do with stepsisters and _especially_ nothing to do with stepbrothers. Save to take them away from the poor, unfortunate girls that got stuck with them.

Like poor, unfortunate her.

"It's not fair!" she moaned, slapping the water for emphasis. Unfortunately for her, this disturbed a very large and very ugly toad who had been lounging nearby. Enraged at the sudden shower, the toad proceeded to leap-or pounce, really-most ungracefully onto Sarah's head.

If there is something to be said about the scream that shot from Sarah's mouth, it is this: it was loud. _Very_ loud.

Sarah began performing an elaborate dance, not unlike the rain-calling dances of many foreign tribes, in an attempt to remove the offending toad. The toad, however, had decided that it rather liked its lofty perch, and clung on with a ferocity never before seen in a toad.

Sarah's scream turned into a series of squeals and shrieks.

She was going to faint. She was going to die. She was going to die with the ugliest toad in creation plastered to her head. That's how they would find her: with a toad helmet. Why couldn't it have been a spider? She liked spiders. More than toads, anyway.

In a last-ditch effort, the girl flung herself into the Seelie River, and the water-phobic toad leaped off onto dry land. With an injured croak, it waddled away.

Sarah came up spluttering to the unexpected sound of laughter. A blonde boy was standing on a nearby bridge nearly doubled over in his mirth-filled cackling. Now, Sarah was furious.

"_What is so funny?"_ she screeched wetly, some of the Seelie still in her mouth. The boy stopped laughing and grinned.

"You, precious thing," he said pointedly. "Or haven't you noticed what a mess you are? My, but you _are_ wet." He was about fourteen or fifteen, tall, dressed in odd clothes and leaning against the bridge in such a cocky way that Sarah found herself becoming angrier and angrier with him.

"Go away!" she exclaimed. "Leave me alone." She splashed a copious amount of water in his general direction, but only managed to upset her old friend the toad, who promptly leaped at her face. Sarah scrambled out of the water, screaming as she did so. This sent the Boy on the Bridge back into peals of laughter. Dripping wet and now very cold, miserable Sarah began to snap at the boy, and dissolved into bitter tears. How humiliating! Now, she was wet and cold and angry and sad and shivering and scared and _too much_. The boy stopped laughing and smiled pityingly at her.

"It's not fair!" Sarah sobbed, shivering. Suddenly, the boy was behind her, laying his blue coat on her shoulders.

"You say that so often," he mused, tickling her ear with his breath. "Shush…Don't cry, Sarah. You're very wet as it is."

"I can cry…if I want to," Sarah sniffled. The boy wrapped his arms around her waist and laughed. Brushing her hair out of her face, he whispered mischievously.

"But why Above or Under would a pretty little thing like you want to do that?" Sarah promptly shoved him away, slapped him, threw his coat at his feet and stalked haughtily away.

"Boys," she sniffed. She was thirteen and so knew _everything_ about the world.

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Jareth stared after Sarah's retreating form in mild shock. That ungrateful girl had actually _slapped_ him! But shock soon turned to immense amusement. His Sarah really was such a silly little thing. Stalking away like some great beast when she was so small, his eyes flickered with laughter, then softened. She truly was upset. Those tiny lines of worry on her little forehead were slightly disconcerting…

And she had _slapped_ him!

"That girl…" Jareth shook his head, smiling. He retrieved his coat and vanished, leaving behind nothing but an echo of a laugh and an ugly toad who was now firmly convinced that the world had gone insane.

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**A/N: Review! And if I don't update by next Friday (June 26th), then start PM-ing me with things like, "UPDATE, YOU SLOW TURTLE!" or "You SAID it WOULDN'T be a YEAR AGAIN!!!"**

**iMuchas gracias, mis lectors!**

**...I think.**


	7. New Life

**A/N: This chapter is a touch more serious than the rest, but only a touch…and that's all for this (abnormally short) Author's Note.**

**ANONYMOUS REVIEW REPLY: Thank you, Miss Anonymous, for your lovely review. I hope you like this chapter!**

**_This chapter is dedicated to Vampy Proxy,_**

**_notwritten,_**

**_OceanFae,_**

**_QueenOfSparrabeth,_**

**_Mademoiselle La Lune,_**

**_Miss Anonymous,_**

**_And Ayjah:_**

**_The Seven Reviewers of Chapter Six._**

**

* * *

****New Life**

It was three days before Sarah's fourteenth birthday when Karen went into labor. In a panic known only to fathers, Robert rushed her to the hospital with a disconcerted Sarah in tow.

The day Sarah had been dreading for eight months was finally here, but she found herself feeling not anger or resentment or even annoyance, but worry. Karen looked like she was in so much pain. Suppose something went wrong? Suppose she died?

Karen, Sarah often admitted grudgingly to herself, wasn't _exactly_ horrible. She and Sarah were by no means close, but Karen had been the one to convince Robert that a girl of thirteen most certainly _was_ old enough for makeup, thank you very much, and at any rate, Sarah didn't want her to die.

While Karen was rushed away to who-knows-where in the hospital, Robert and Sarah were ushered into a waiting room by a very large, very hairy, very stern male nurse who had been through a rotten day full of screaming children. He announced that if Sarah decided to climb like a monkey on the hospital chairs, tease patients or use crayons on the walls, he would escort her from the premises and never-you-mind if she was ill, pregnant or the Queen of England, she wouldn't be allowed back. Ever.

While Robert sat and fiddled with his tie, Sarah paced back and forth nervously. This earned her another scolding from the nurse, who claimed she was making him dizzy. Sarah sat in one of the hospital's tacky green and pink chairs and stared at the floor miserably.

"Mr. Williams?" a nurse with a shock of red hair called. "Your wife wants you." Looking faintly green, Robert followed the nurse and Sarah was left alone in the waiting room.

An hour ticked past on the nearby clock with what felt to Sarah like teasing slowness. She wasn't alone during the hour: a doctor with a large beard and nice eyes brought her some juice, an x-ray technician offered to x-ray her hand and an old lady who bore a startling resemblance to a prune sat in the chair across from her and glared at her furiously. Sarah merely sat and listened to the ticking of the clock. When would this be over?

At last, the red-haired nurse came into the waiting room, grinning as broadly as her mouth would allow. The sight was more than slightly disturbing, as said nurse belonged to a family of extremely long-lipped women.

"Congrats, kiddo!" she exclaimed. "You've got a little brother!" All of Sarah's previous worry for Karen disappeared in the new emotion of distress. A future of slavery to an almost-stepbrother and an evil stepmother flashed before her eyes. She would be condemned to the drafty tower room, she just knew it.

Never mind that they didn't actually _have_ a drafty tower room: Karen would build one, just to make her miserable.

Sarah was jerked from her delightfully dreadful imaginings by the nurse's concerned question.

"You okay, sweetie?" Her long mouth was now drawn into a concerned (and to be honest, very ugly) frown.

"I'm fine," Sarah said with considerable bravery, considering her looming future. The nurse smiled again.

"Well then, let's go meet the little guy." Sarah followed the nurse deep in thought. Of course the drafty tower was unlikely, but there was a high possibility that Robert and Karen would become so enamored with their little boy that Sarah would be somewhat neglected. Robert already neglected her some times.

She was feeling quite melancholy when another nurse suddenly stepped in front of her holding a blue bundle of blanket and baby that was moving ever so gently. Sarah looked down at the tiny feet, little hands and tufts of blonde hair and was thrown into shock.

This? _This_ was the evil almost-stepbrother? This looked so tiny and precious that she was surprised he hadn't shattered in the nurse's arms.

Can I…hold him?" she asked cautiously. The two nurses laughed and the baby was carefully deposited in Sarah's arms. Hardly breathing, Sarah stared at the tiny baby with something very akin to love on her face.

"What's his name?" she asked in a whisper.

"Toby," Redhead-Long-Lips answered.

"Toby," Sarah repeated softly. Almost on cue, Toby opened his eyes and studied his surroundings. Catching sight of Sarah, he blinked and she melted.

"He's perfect," she breathed. Then, as if desiring to prove his perfection, Toby decorated the front of his sister's shirt with urine.

* * *

Jareth chuckled tiredly at the look of horror on Sarah's face in his crystals. Even though he was so rarely exhausted, keeping the Fomorian giants from trying to return Above to Erin had been nearly enough to do so.

The Fomorians didn't take kindly to orders, and while dealing with them alone was fairly easy, dealing with them while trying _not_ to injure the entirely too ridiculous Goblin Army that showed up to "help" was very taxing.

And yet again his little Sarah entertained him. It was odd; really, that he couldn't quite recall how things had been before he had met her that day in the park.

Reflecting on this (and the fact that a particular Fiery had decided to-against strict directions _not_ to-burned down half of a nearby forest and needed to be punished), Jareth decided to give the girl a gift. She wouldn't know it was from him, of course, but what thirteen-year-old child wouldn't want a stuffed animal?

…And what indecent Fiery would want to spend the customary thirteen years of his punishment transformed into a fuzzy plaything?

* * *

**A/N: I would like to take this time to point out the importance of reviews in a writer's life. You see, many writers like to know that their stories are actually being read, and while copious amounts of hits are a nice thing, they often like to be shown some support from their readers in the form of a small missive. **

**So, if you loverly people could drop me a line via the little review button below, it will boost my self-confidence and thereby create a better chance of updates.**

**Thanks!**

**P. S. I do not own Labyrinth or the Fomorians, who were invading Erin long before it was called Ireland.**


	8. A Scare

**A/N: _(to the tune of Ode to Joy)_**

**I just reached one-hundred reviews**

**For this Fanfic story!**

**So I wrote a longer chapter**

**Than the ones before these.**

**I'm Excited,**

**I'm Delighted,**

**I now have a writer's cramp.**

**But I guess I'll keep on writing**

**(At least until Summer Camp)!**

**A/N: At this point, I feel I should mention a typo back in chapter 5: it says that the Goblin ambassador promised the King of the Goblins' support. This is wrong. It should read "promised the King of the Goblins _his_ support". Jareth is King of the Underground and that includes the Goblins. The idea of there being another King of the Goblins will throw the rest of the story off, so just eradicate it now. Sorry for any confusion!**

**So, many thanks to the anonymous reviewer Kit for review #100! Just now, this story is first in the number of alerts among all of my stories. In 59 reviews, it'll be first in the number of reviews, as well. So if some of you want to go back and review every chapter until this story beats out my _Artemis Fowl_ one, you can (--****This is a joke. Unless someone actually wants to do it, I suppose)!**

**Two Someones are introduced in this chapter. Can you spot them?**

**Okay, so this is the longest chapter thus far. I think after this will be one more vignette, a "one-year-in-one-chapter" chapter, an introductory chapter and then the plethora of chapters that will compose the premise of the film.**

**Translation: _Almost to the Labyrinth! Almost to the Labyrinth!_**

**_This chapter is dedicated to Kit, of course._**

**_And to everyone else who reviewed!_**

**_There were quite a lot of you,_**

**_And I still have to type up this chapter,_**

**_Which is hard, considering the afore-mentioned writer's cramp._**

**_But you know who you are!_**

**_

* * *

_****A Scare**

Jareth's advisers had the singularly astounding ability to be able to panic about every single decision the king made.

When he denied the rowdy Fierys access to the royal gardens, they panicked, claiming that this would incite outrage from the Fierys which would lead to war in which the entire Underground would join, eventually dethroning Jareth and replacing him with a mudworm or some equally repulsive object. In actuality, the Fierys cared less about the royal gardens than they did about fleas (about which, despite being covered in them, they never thought), but try explaining that to his advisers.

When he extended the hand of friendship to the Sirens, his poor, baffled advisers nearly all died of heart attacks on the spot. Not, mind you, because it was a bad idea, but because Jareth had done so without first consulting them!

Now, while it was true that his advisers were paranoid to extremes and not exactly "sane", they were perfectly suited to Jareth for the sole reason that their paranoia and panic countered his idiosyncrasies, and he valued them despite their constant annoying tendencies. He had a kingdom to rule and needed balance to do so.

Not to say that he was all rules of late. At this point, if he went a month with causing some sort of mischief it was a miracle. A rare miracle. The king had changed over the past few years, and though it was at first amusing, it had become disturbing to say the least. He was simply too clever and to mirthful and too bloody _honest_ for his own good.

Why, that very day he'd had the ambassador of the Dwarves thrown in the dungeon for stealing. The advisers couldn't believe it! Throwing an _ambassador_ in the dungeon! Never mind if only the most annoying Dwarves were sent as ambassadors and no-one would listen to his grumbling when he got back. It simply wasn't right!

But this was nothing compared to the much more pressing matter of Jareth's marriage and producing of an heir. Or rather, the lack thereof. The topic either annoyed the king or threw him into a distressing amusement, though _why_ he would laugh as the advisers begged him to choose someone, _anyone_ to marry was beyond even the cleverest of them.

At last, the Head Adviser decided to confront him with the one shred of hope any of them had left: the king's increased crystal-gazing. If not a bride, what else was he looking at?

* * *

Jareth was having a fairly unpleasant day. First, he had caught the Dwarfish ambassador (Hidgebrain, was it?) trying to steal his crown. Never mind the fact that he hardly ever wore the garish thing: one did not steal from the king and get away with it.

Then, due to the sheer and irritating panic of his advisers, he had been forced to let Hedgehog go with nothing more than the usual "should-I-need-you" sentence that obligated the Dwarf to help should Jareth ever need him. But when would he ever need a thieving Hoghead?

And now his advisers were all standing in a corner of the throne room whispering feverishly to each other. This could only mean that a discussion of duty and marriage was imminent, during which Jareth (who was in no mood to talk) would have to refrain from turning them into toads and seat cushions.

Jareth sighed inwardly, but his face was a mask of seriousness. From his relaxed position halfway on a windowsill, halfway out of the window altogether; he could see for miles into the distance, or further if he so chose. The Underground was more than happy to provide its king with views of its farthest corners.

As Jareth sat, absent-mindly surveying his kingdom and toying with a crystal, a sudden and abnormal urge to view Sarah Williams' garden violently struck him.

"Sire," began his head adviser in an obviously rehearsed tone. "It has come to our atten-"

"Not now," snapped Jareth, willing a crystal to show him the garden. Little Sarah was sitting on a swing, fully engrossed in her book. She was humming a tune that was vaguely familiar, and Jareth spared her a glance, but he wasn't looking for her. He scanned the rows of dying tulips and wilted roses for a sign…and found it.

Jareth's heart gave an odd half-beat as he realized the creature's intent. A sudden rage flew from a rarely-used part of his heart and landed in the corners of his eyes. Before anyone could so much as blink, he vanished, leaving behind a group of very frustrated advisers.

* * *

The Wraith in Sarah's garden was very strong and had been alive (for lack of a better word) for centuries. But to absorb the life force of the little girl in front of him was going to be something new. She was unique and vivacious and so very spirited.

Unfortunately for said Wraith, his attention was focused wholly on the girl and not on the furious Fae King behind him. As he moved to attack, so did Jareth, who (despite every urge to wring the creature's neck) promptly sent him to a dimension void of anything but a three-foot-square of livable space mostly inhabited by a fuzzy creature called the Krollup, who either ate Wraiths or sat upon them (neither event being desirable in the slightest).

And all of this was done without Sarah noticing anything amiss.

Jareth stood behind a tree and watched Sarah swinging all-too innocently. This would never do. Suppose one day he wasn't here to protect her? Suppose an Eblis came? Suppose his little Sarah _died_?

The thought chilled him and made him feel slightly ill. No, this would never do. She needed a protector. She needed someone who was always there but wouldn't rouse suspicion. What she really needed was a Familiar.

* * *

Sarah was having a fairly unpleasant day. Toby seemed to _never_ stop crying, frazzled new mother Karen was rushing around the house fetching diapers and bottles and anything else Toby required, Robert was working (as always) and Sarah was left feeling more than a little neglected.

She loved Toby. But truth be told, the baby's constant needs were really starting to bug her. She was trying to figure out a crossword puzzle (her very last resort in boredom) when a knock sounded at the door.

"Karen," she called from her perch on the kitchen counter, where she had been musing over a five-letter word for prestidigitation and the five-letter word that intersected it for a moving art form. "The door."

Her eloquent and verbose statement was met with the equally eloquent and verbose wailing banshee cry that was Toby wanting a bottle.

"Could you get it?" Karen came Karen's harried reply from the bedroom.

"But it-" began Sarah.

"Sarah!" shouted Karen as Toby's crying escalated. This cut Sarah off just as she was about to begin a lengthy lecture on the dangers of children answering the door. With a great deal of eye-rolling and sighing, Sarah went to the door.

In spite of having muttered that she wished it _were_ a kidnapper, and wouldn't that teach Karen a lesson, she gasped in shock when she opened the door to find a bent over person covered entirely by a black cloak.

"Hello, little girl," the old woman wheezed. "Is your mother home?"

* * *

Sarah's piercing green eyes bored into him suspiciously, as if trying to see through his cloak. It was a pointless effort. The cloak was just as eager to disguise him as his kingdom was to allow him the sight of it. Sarah held firmly to the doorknob and cocked her head to one side.

"And you are?" she demanded, trying her best to sound imperious and threatening (and only slightly succeeding). Jareth stifled a very un-old-ladylike laugh that was threatening to escape his throat. Here he was, disguised as an elderly mortal _woman_ standing on Sarah's doorstep for her own safety and the little girl had the nerve to act the princess!

"Is that any way to talk to your elders?" he (she) rasped sternly. Sarah glared at him icily, her green eyes seeming to freeze over in the process.

"You know," she mused matter-of-factly, looking him over once more. "I'm not really supposed to talk to strangers. My _mother_ always said so. So I bid you good day." She was about to slam the door most theatrically in his face when Jareth let go of the squirming thing in his hands and it ran eagerly to Sarah, giving a little yelp as it did so. Sarah's face changed instantly.

"Oh, how adorable!" she exclaimed, crouching to scratch the puppy's head. Jareth could have groaned in frustration, and possibly slammed his head against a wall for good measure. She really _did_ need a Familiar if she merely accepted every stranger in a black cloak so long as they had a puppy on hand. She was lucky he _wasn't_ a kidnapper, or else who knows what would have happened to that foolish, overly-trusting, innocent-

His dark thoughts were broken by Sarah's question. "What's her name?"

"His," Jareth corrected in a raspy whisper. "And I suppose that's up to you; disrespect and all. Considering how he's yours now." Sarah's smile was dazzlingly brilliant for a moment, and then was clouded by doubt.

"Robert and Karen won't let me," she sighed, trying in vain to resign herself to this fact as the puppy snuggled in her lap. "Karen hates dogs and Robert agrees with whatever Karen says. But thank you all the same." She tried to give the puppy back, but he sunk his teeth into her shirt and wouldn't let go.

"Your parents won't mind this dog," Jareth stated, coughing for emphasis. "Or else, they'll let you keep him, anyways." But Sarah had eyes for only the puppy. Jareth half smiled at her enamored look.

"Merlin," she said dreamily. "His name's Merlin." Suddenly remembering her manners, she looked up to thank the old woman, but Jareth had left.

* * *

Robert and Karen _did_ let Sarah keep Merlin, who was somehow impeccably trained. He went where he was told when he was told and was trained to use the back yard. However, Karen often caught the dog snooping around in the garden and stalking the shadows near Sarah, who seemed oblivious to the whole affair. He was almost religiously fervent about it, following the girl wherever he could and whimpering for her when she wasn't there.

And once, Karen could have sworn that he was chasing a flower around the front yard, growling viciously and snapping at it until the poor thing was quite shredded.

But that, of course, was only tired Karen's imagination.

Because flowers do not run around the yard.

* * *

**A/N: Awww! Okay, so I went a little fluffy there. Can't promise it won't happen again on account of a) I don't make promises I can't keep and since I'm not a ffortune-teller I don't know which promises I will and won't keep so I avoid them entirely and b) I probably will. They're just so cute!**

**Please review and such and so forth whilst I go re-watch Labyrinth to decide where I want to go from here! And thanks again for the reviews already submitted. Seriously, they keep me going. :)**


	9. Strange Changes

**A/N: I daresay this is the part of the story where I fall, pleadingly to my knees and beg for the forgiveness of everyone who has ever read this story or ever _will_ read this story because I'm a rotten updater, half of you on alert probably got this and haven't read it in so long that you don't know what it is, I am horribly terribly late and this chapter is short. I do so now.**

**I was shaken back to the realisation that this fic exists by Jane Owen. I really am very sorry. My life has been extremely mad (well, madder than usual, I should say) and I don't always remember that projects exist unless I am reminded.**

**This is the part of the story where I ask for your help.**

**In order to have some semblance of regular updates, I need someone who will PM me regularly and (not too meanly) bug me about my lack of updates. This person needs to be able to do this fairly often (once a week or so) so more than one person would be welcome. Interested parties need not apply, merely throw reminders at me. This will result in an Authoress Who Updates Regularly instead of the Rotten in Updating Slime-Bucket I have become. Thanks in advance!**

**The reason this chapter is so short is actually quite simple: it isn't an entire chapter. The original draft had it much, much longer and this is only the first bit of it. However, I was so eager to give you patient people SOMETHING that I decided to cut it here and write the rest this weekend, in which you will meet a certain someone I have always loved and come to the realisation of why exactly he was in that tree in the first place.**

**Thank you for your time. You guys rock!**

**_This chapter is dedicated to Jane Owen_**

**_Who reminded me that the story existed_**

**_When I was too busy with family and business to recall._**

* * *

**Strange Changes**

As Sarah grew, so did her vivid imagination and flair for the dramatic. Her dislike of her stepmother prompted her to spend countless hours in the park where she occupied herself by dispatching invisible villains with sticks turned swords, discovering Fairie and Fraggle alike under rocks and flummoxing the greatest of knights and princes with her grace, charm and ability to use a longbow. She was the High Princess and she held court by the Seelie River.

Vivid though her imagination was, Sarah Williams was well aware that her airy kingdom was only that: an airy kingdom. And while dream-lands and enchanted worlds were pleasant enough, she often felt as though she was missing something. She longed for something more.

Sarah's mother had been an accomplished actress. Now, it was discovered that Sarah had not only the passion, but the talent to pursue a similar career. Her drama teacher had promised her a spot in next year's school play, a fact which Sarah did not trust to anyone save Merlin who, being the only other member of her Court-by-the-Seelie, was her sole confidant in such sensitive matters. The dog simply would not allow her to go to the park without him, preferring instead to run along after her and chase every shadow that came anywhere near his girl.

Sarah spent as many hours memorizing scripts as she did playacting, using Merlin as a cast member and often forgetting that he was a dog and therefore incapable of repeating lines back to her. This constant state of living in rehearsal and Fairie-Worlds created a girl destined for something great, Sarah was sure. She just wasn't sure what exactly that greatness was.

* * *

Jareth would sometimes play audience to Sarah's adventures in the park. From the day they began, they had been a source of nearly endless amusement to him. Often, he laughed to himself and mentally ridiculed the girl's misconception of the Underground's supposedly mythical creatures, wondering time and again what the poor, ignorant girl would do if she ever met an actual Troll instead of the imaginary ones she befriended regularly. She would probably be eaten, he reasoned, and suddenly it wasn't quite amusing.

Sarah's trust was a source of some concern to the Fae King. Not that it was any matter of _his_, he told himself, but she trusted far too easily. Her friendship, once gained, was never truly lost, and was -in Jareth's opinion- far too easy to gain. The girl would probably follow someone down to her death if she thought they were friends.

Not that it was any matter of his.

Aside from this concern, Jareth had noticed something disconcerting. Sarah's plays had begun innocently enough as an amusement. A game. But of late, there had been disturbing other forces at work.

Seemingly overnight, the fumbling and grasping way she conducted her fantasy dances and balls had shifted into something that wasn't exactly as childish as it had been. Her pretend grace and charm were slowly beginning to morph into actual elements. Most disturbing of all, Jareth was not the only one who had noticed these changes. A large group of young men, most of them pimple-faced and woefully dull, seemed aware of these facts as well. Had he any time to think about it, Jareth was sure he would figure out why this irritated him so badly and why he suddenly had the urge to banish every adolescent male in Sarah's vicinity to a destiny as tree stumps. However, the king had more pressing issues.

He still had absolutely no desire to be married. Never mind little Sarah Williams' notions of true loves and happily-ever-afters, even the word "marriage" was distasteful to him. Thus far, he had avoided it. But he knew very well that his time was slowly trickling away, with every tick of every clock. Jareth was often so frustrated with this impending doom that he wondered whether it wouldn't just be better to re-order time and live within one moment forever and to never worry about marriage again.

However possible it was, he knew he wouldn't do it. His kingdom needed him. His people needed him. And the effects of completely changing time to suit one's needs were often terribly unsafe to those within the reach of the re-order. Never mind the elephant of a headache such actions reportedly caused.

Still, the constant reminders from his advisers that he needed an heir were quickly becoming more and more often and more and more irksome. That is why, on a particular night, he was standing at a balcony, most certainly _not_ hiding from a gaggle of advisers attempting to "talk some sense into him", thank you very much, but instead surveying the Underground with unusually heavy thoughts when he was, for the second time in his, remarkably long, life summoned.

And having had a strange amount of fear as to little Sarah's safety of late, he rushed to answer.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! And yes, it's short. Too short. Painfully short. But it's Something and means that more Somethings shall follow. Thanks to everyone who reviewed before!**


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